


molt

by moth_writes



Series: smiling fate [11]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moth_writes/pseuds/moth_writes
Summary: Simon's wings molt. Baz helps him through it....I’m starting not to hate the wings....I don’t know the right word, just that every year around spring the top layer of small, leathery scales comes off.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: smiling fate [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026844
Kudos: 38
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	molt

**Author's Note:**

> Done for the Carry On Countdown Day 12: Wings

SIMON

I’m starting not to hate the wings.

I never minded the tail much-always kind of liked it, honestly-but I can’t just tuck the wings into my pants when I go out. I have to wait for Baz or Penny to spell me, and it gets annoying. Constricting.

The tail doesn't shed, either. Molt. I don’t know the right word, just that every year around spring the top layer of small, leathery scales comes off. It itches, a lot, and I can’t quite reach to scratch it properly.

  
  
  


BAZ

Simon turns over in the bed again and flicks his wings.

I’m not surprised. He’s been twitchy for days-he always is this time of year. 

I sit up all the way and set my book aside. I was attempting to get some studying done, but Simon’s thoroughly ruined that plan. (Story of my life.) I frown down at him until he rolls over and meets my eyes, then say as casually as I can, “Do you need some help with those?”

I gesture to his wings so he can’t pretend he doesn’t know what I’m talking about. He blinks at me, considering.

“I ‘spose,” he says finally, with an air of indifference I see right through. “‘S not like they can get worse.”

He rolls back over onto his stomach-he’s shirtless, always is when we’re home and his wings are out. 

There’s a pumice stone in my nightstand, the kind for removing dead skin and the like. I get it out, setting my book in its place as I do. 

I did some research and since his shedding seems most like a snake, I thought this would help. Everything I read said to provide something to rub against to remove old scales and such, and this is basically that.

I straddle Simon’s lower back, just above where his tail elongates his spine. His hisses when I take one wing in hand, then sighs when I draw the stone across it.

“Okay, love?” I ask. I don’t want to hurt him.

“‘S nice,” he says, half-slurred. “Like finally scratching a bad itch. Or getting in a hot bath.”

I continue, rubbing the stone gently at first then harder when he seems to appreciate it. The top layer comes off in flakes and sheets-I’ll have to wash the bedclothes later-and underneath is shiny and bright red.

It takes almost an hour to finish the first wing. I’m extremely careful to maintain a constant pressure just enough to take off the dead layer while not hurting anything underneath. I have to use a pair of tweezers to get in the smallest crevices, but then Simon’s wing is shining bright and smooth when I run my hand over him. He twitches when I do, already half asleep

The next wing doesn’t take as long, maybe about forty minutes before it’s done and shining. Simon’s well out by now, so I press a kiss to the back of his head and stumble out of bed. 

My leg had gone numb about half an hour after I started and I’d just ignored it. I’ve pins and needles now, though, and I have to try and half hop my way out a\while trying not to fall over. 

I don’t regret it. Simon hasn’t been able to sleep right since his wings started shedding, and it was nice. That's not the right word, but I'm half out of my head with the pleasant buzz of lost time and a repetitively satisfying task. 

It's a Saturday, and only about three in the afternoon. I get a drink-both kinds, water and blood-and head back into our room. 

It’s the perfect time for a nap, and I'm going to take full advantage.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
